


Carried Away

by AubGoblin, doridoripawaa



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Collaboration, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Other, They/Them Pronouns for My Unit | Byleth, Zine: My Beloved - A Dimileth Zine (Fire Emblem)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 09:08:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30069951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AubGoblin/pseuds/AubGoblin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/doridoripawaa/pseuds/doridoripawaa
Summary: Dimitri and Byleth always seemed to find themselves getting carried away.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	Carried Away

Dimitri had imagined his death on several occasions.

The means of his death had varied greatly, but the end result largely remained the same. His consciousness would fade as he reached towards the white light of eternity, and a familiar face would greet him. His father, his mother, his stepmother, or maybe even Glenn, would take him in their arms and thank him, congratulate him, and praise him for setting their souls free. For obtaining the revenge they so desperately yearned for, that they pleaded for every night in Dimitri's haunted dreams.

This scene he had imagined so many times was the one constant that he had imagined. Thus, after blacking out and feeling his consciousness slip away, and blinking open his eyes only to see Sylvain's scowling face staring back at him, Dimitri was understandably surprised.

Disheartened, even.

"Man… you are the worst," Sylvain muttered bitterly. His arms were folded over his chest as he crouched on a stool, hunched over to lean over the dazed prince.

Dimitri blinked the bleariness out of his eyes, and slowly but surely the blinding white light behind Sylvain's face gave way to an equally white room. He began to pick out some familiar shapes and objects: walls, cots, curtains, tables, vials, syringes, bandages. 

"So I'm not dead after all," Dimitri murmured, and he gazed down at himself for the first time since waking up. He was lying in a cot, with a white sheet tucked over him. Carefully he tried to sit up and lift one of his arms, but the simple movement sent pain searing through his body and forced him to put his arm down and lie back down.

"No, but you're dead to me," Sylvain responded with that same scowl burned into his face. With a sigh, he leaned forward and put his hand on the blond's forehead. "I wouldn't move too much if I were you. You seriously crashed earlier and landed directly onto that right arm of yours."

That explained the soreness. "Collapsed?" he echoed. "Sylvain, would you mind telling me exactly what happened?"

Sylvain raised up both of his arms in a confused shrug. "I wish I knew all the details. The professor and I had walked into the training grounds and found you there, hacking away at a dummy. You must have been there for hours because you were sweating like a pig. When the professor called out to you, you whipped around super fast and then suddenly folded over and hit the ground." Sylvain scratched the back of his head thoughtfully. "If I had to guess, you overworked yourself."

Images began to flash before Dimitri's eyes, somewhat foggy but nevertheless familiar. 

_ “I’ll never forgive him,” the young man growled as he yanked a wooden lance from the rack inside the training room. “Him, or any of them.” With a huge grunt, he lunged forward and drove the spear deep into the chest of a training dummy, sending strands of straw flying out. When he pulled his lance out, the rip he tore sent straw spewing out as grassy intestines might. “For what they did to Flayn…” he murmured, and a slice followed his words. “For what they did to my family!” _

_ A sharp snap echoed around the empty room as the wood splintered and broke in the prince’s vice grip. He clenched his hands into fists, ignoring the fragments of wood and two halves of the lance that lay scattered at his feet. “Never.” _

“That… sounds possible,” was all that Dimitri murmured, and he turned his head to the side so that Sylvain was looking at the back of his head. Undoubtedly, his childhood friend would be able to pick up on the ferocious flames in his eyes, with a blaze both burning and cold. “What happened after that?”

Sylvain’s expression of concern once again melted into his original irritated look. “You get treatment like that and don’t even remember it? You did not deserve that at  _ all. _ ”

“The only thing that Prince Dimitri does not deserve,” a clear, commanding voice interrupted him, “is to be hounded by the likes of you! Shoo, shoo!” Manuela strode into the room with her painted lips pursed into a pout, and she began to shake her rod at him. “Get away from my patient if you are just going to pester him!”

“C’mon, Manuela,” Sylvain began to plead before she cut him off by pressing a finger directly to his lips.

“That’s  _ Professor  _ Manuela to you,” she corrected him. “Do not address me so familiarly unless you really mean it,” she added in a somewhat whiny voice. “A-anyway, do you treat Professor Byleth like this? Where are they, anyway?”

“You’re still a patient yourself, Professor Manuela.”

Dimitri’s bruised and battered torso began to screech in protest as he jerked upright into a sitting position at the sound of that cool, calm, collected voice. “P-professor!” he exclaimed, and for the first time since he woke up, he felt a smile begin to curl onto his lips. “Thank you for checking on me, but that isn’t necessary.”

“Dimitri,” Byleth greeted him. Was he imagining things, or did he detect a hint of relief in his usually stoic teacher’s tone? “You’re awake.” 

The blue-haired instructor walked directly past Manuela and Sylvain without sparing them a second glance. As they waltzed by, they nonchalantly dropped a basket of medical supplies into Sylvain’s lap and ignored his  _ “oof!” _ as the heavy heap smacked into his thighs. 

“Lean back,” Byleth ordered Dimitri immediately, and he gladly obliged. “I brought this for you,” they went on as they lifted a small towel from the pile of supplies they’d dumped onto the annoyed redhead beside them. Carefully, Byleth pressed the cloth against Dimitri’s forehead, and he bit his lip to hold back a sigh of comfort and relief as the heat from the cloth soaked into his skin. 

“Too hot?” Byleth asked, and Dimitri feebly shook his head so as not to scare their gentle touch away.

As if they did not believe him, Byleth leaned in closer, scrutinizing every bead of sweat and shade of color on the young man’s face. With his face so close to Byleth’s, Dimitri felt that his cheeks were growing hotter and hotter, but the towel on his head was not to blame. As their nose brushed against his own for a split second, he felt his head begin to spin and his vision begin to blur once again. 

“I-it’s hot,” he stammered, “really hot.” Immediately Byleth drew back and glanced over him, analyzing his condition. His head must have still been spinning because he thought he saw concern flicker in their typically serene cerulean gaze.

“You really worried us, you know,” Sylvain said suddenly, and his simple words seemed to cut into the musty heat in the room like a fresh breeze. His gaze softened and his features relaxed, and he gave his old friend a compassionate half-smile. “How long were you in there?”

“How long have I been out?” Dimitri asked. “I would say that I headed there… when the sun was at the top of the sky. Right after lunch.”

“Right after lunch?” Sylvain echoed, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head. “Dude, we went to fetch you right after dusk, because nobody saw you in the dining hall for supper. You really trained for that long…?”

“I…” Dimitri hesitated. 

Of course the class knew he was ambitious, but he had not confided in anyone what truly drove him to work so hard. He knew he was not the smartest, strongest, or most talented student among the Blue Lions, but he still had to be the best. Not just out of his duty as the future king, but also… He glanced up at Byleth, and was almost taken aback by the interest glimmering in their eyes and perking up their nose. Their petite little nose. 

“I could not stop thinking about Flayn,” he confessed at last. “The Death Knight… what he did to Flayn, Monica, and Professor Manuela…” With a strained effort, he clenched his hands into fists once again, his mounting fury beginning to override his dulling pain.

_ “For King Lambert!” a booming voice resounded throughout the training grounds. The blond prince struck in a swift and wild fashion, almost savage and feral, but clearly calculated, as every movement managed to make its mark.  _

_ “For Queen Patricia!” he cried out, as he thrust the lance forward into the dummy’s head, torso and chest, one after the other.  _

_ “For Glenn!” he wailed, as he rapidly switched hands and spun the lance around in anticipation for his finishing blow.  _

_ “For the people of Duscur!” he bellowed, and with a mighty heave, he pushed forward until his wooden spear cut deep into the dummy before him, piercing a hole straight through its body and almost carrying him forward into the wall. His strike brought him nose to nose with the straw man before him, and with gasping, labored breaths, he began to chuckle.  _

_ “For the Holy Kingdom… of Faerghus…” he wheezed. His eyes narrowed, and his chuckle rumbled deep in his chest and up to his throat before escaping his parted, panting lips to create quiet, low, and menacing laughter that even Hubert von Vestra could not rival. _

“You’re too kind,” Manuela interjected. She had moved to her own cot and stayed silent for the most part, tending to her own wound, but now she rose to her feet and came to lean on Sylvain’s shoulder. “If you care too much for others and not enough for yourself, you’ll end up in here. You and I are proof of that,” she went on, nodding towards her back to remind him of her own injury.

“I think his kindness is strength,” Byleth murmured. “He fights for others. I’ve only ever fought for myself and my father, and I think we did alright.” Now he was certain that he had hit his head because Byleth looked as if they were… smiling at him? That look on their face was entirely foreign to him, and that made it all the more striking.

“In any event, I cannot burden you with my presence. I should be fine after some rest.” Dimitri tried to push himself into a sitting position for the third time that day. With each attempt, though, he seemed to become better at ignoring his pain. “I should return to my quarters for the night and sleep there.”

“And just how do you propose you’ll get there? You cannot stand in this condition,” Manuela chided.

“Come to think of it,” Dimitri began, and much to his surprise, the color began to drain from Sylvain’s face. “How did I get here after I collapsed?”

“You honestly were out cold,” Sylvain breathed, and he whistled softly. “I don’t know if I’m jealous or not…”

Dimitri tilted his head to the side. “Jealous?” he echoed. “What do y—”

Before he had a chance to even contemplate what Sylvain’s cryptic words could possibly mean or attempt to imagine the various methods by which he may have arrived at the infirmary, Dimitri suddenly found himself scooped up off of the cot and into the air. His mind spun with pain and confusion as he soon found himself staring up at the ceiling, and he waited to regain his equilibrium before even trying to look around the room and discover what had happened. One thing he knew for certain was that he was warm, so warm.

“I’ve done it once; I can do it again.” Such simple words with such heavy meaning behind them. “Which way to your rooms, Sylvain?”

Maybe this time, Dimitri had really died. As he regained his vision, he became more and more certain that his death had finally come to pass. Why else would he be gazing into sparkling sapphire eyes and resting against soft snowy skin? His head was leaning against thick, dark armor, and sturdy arms supported him from beneath. Warm arms. “Pr-professor?”

“Come on, Dimitri. Professor, I’ll stay with him tonight and make sure he gets his proper treatment and doesn’t try to escape to the training grounds again.”

“Don’t you  _ da— _ ” Sylvain began, but Manuela spoke up before he could finish.

“That would be wonderful! Thank you, Professor! You kids have fun, while Sylvain goes to the dining hall and grabs some food for Dimitri.” Her eyes glittered with mischief as she wrapped an arm around the petulant young man, as if challenging him to object.

As Byleth carried him back towards his room, Dimitri had a whole slew of thoughts swirling in his mind. Why were these warm arms so familiar? Why was Sylvain in such a foul mood? Was he strong enough to achieve his goals, if something like training could render him immobile and hospitalized? Was the Death Knight to blame?

Right now, he did not have any answers, but he did know one thing for certain. He had three words he absolutely needed to say. Three words his ashen angel deserved to hear.

“Thank you, Professor.”

* * *

It was years later that Dimitri found himself reflecting on the things that happened before this mess of a war. No matter how much people said he had changed, he ached to tell them that he hadn’t. It had always been an act, that sweet boy that they thought they knew. No one… not even Rodrigue, had known the true depth of his despair. His heartache. His living nightmare.

It was enough to lose his parents, enough to see the disgusting, terrifying things that he had seen as a child. Then, he had to deal with it all over again. Byleth, his professor. Dedue, his most trusted friend; these were two of the most important people in his life. For five years, he struggled with his dreams. Isolated. Confused. Lost. After the death of his Uncle, they labeled him so many things… things that he had already been calling himself since his youth.

An imposter. A fraud. A monster.

Why did he have the right to keep breathing when so many others had let out their last breath? Why should his pathetic pulse keep pounding when humble hearts had ceased to beat? Why should his lying lips continue to spit out deceits when truthful tongues had been forced into eternal silence?

And now? To lose Rodrigue as well? It was just too much to bear. Despite the conversation he had with Byleth in the rain the other night, he still hadn’t vacated the cathedral. How could he? Despite never truly holding on to his faith, he knew that this was the place where he felt closest to those poor souls, left to die in his place. 

Dimitri had cried enough for them, and all that was left was the hollow, empty shell that he had become. Both Byleth and Rodrigue had told him to live for what he believed in, but what was that? What in this world was worth living for? Did he really believe in anything anymore? All of his hope in humanity had died as soon as he unmasked his stepsister in the Holy Tomb. Even so, many years later, he still felt the sting of that betrayal.

Now, he found himself lying flat on the cold ground of the Cathedral, having just woken from a nightmare he hadn’t had before. Cold sweat ran across his forehead, trailing down the slope of his neck. It was what led him to this stage of reflection, for he felt an emotion that he hadn’t felt since the last time he saw his professor…  _ fear _ .

_ The sickening crunch of bones breaking. Blisters and bruises painting a canvas of ashen skin. Thick, oozing scarlet shining against a background of seafoam green locks. Emerald eyes losing their twinkle, fading into dull stones. _

It may have all been a dream, but the wrenching in his gut and the aching in what was left of Dimitri's heart all pointed to one course of action: Ensure that this dream never became a reality.

With this one simple goal on his mind, the grieving, ghastly prince managed to heave himself up onto his feet. Move forward one step at a time towards the goal; that was his only way to live these days.

The sight that he spotted outside of the cathedral filled him with a different emotion, albeit a familiar one. As soon as he saw his professor leaning against the tumbled stone walls, sleeping outside and exposed to the elements, a rage began to boil within Dimitri's core.

What was that feeling bubbling up alongside the rage? Clinging to it, desperate to rise as well and make itself known?

Was that… concern? Sympathy?  _ Affection? _

Pondering, he stepped closer to them, kneeling beside them on the cold pavement. He could tell from a glance how much they were shivering, undoubtedly freezing. Why hadn’t they at least brought a thick cloak to wear? 

Dimitri was quick to take the one from his back and drape it over Byleth, doing what he could to shield them from the wind. Doubts lingered in his mind about whether even his fur-lined cloak would be sufficient to protect them from the elements all night.

"Foolish," he muttered under his breath. "I had thought my dream was unrealistic, to see you being so careless, yet here you are…" He leaned in closer to them and narrowed his eye. Goddess, their cheeks and nose were positively rosy. He could not leave them out here all night. 

A sudden memory flickered inside his mind. A memory of a younger, weaker Dimitri who had worked himself to exhaustion and collapsed. In his unconscious state, someone had hauled him safely indoors.

Now that someone needed him to return the favor.

"I'd regret it if I did not return the favor," he murmured, as if to justify what he was about to do. Slowly, cautiously, tenderly, he lowered his right shoulder so that he could scoop Byleth up beneath their legs, and he placed his left arm behind their head. The prince made a noise that was halfway between a grunt and a sigh as he hoisted his professor into the air, careful to keep his cloak wrapped around their lithe body.

His heart ached when he noticed how light they felt in his arms. It seemed that they had lost some weight since the last time he carried them this way, when they had collapsed after the fight with Kronya and Solon. Wasn’t Byleth eating properly? Was he doing this to them? Were they really so fraught with worry that they weren’t taking proper care of themselves?

Then again, he would be a hypocrite if he scolded them for such behavior. He was just as guilty of it.

Despite his gentle footsteps as he carried them across the bridge and towards Byleth’s quarters, he felt them stir in his arms, groggy green eyes opening to gaze up at him. They seemed vaguely aware that they were being carried in his arms, resting their head against his chest. Was that a hint of pink on their cheeks?

“Dimitri?” Byleth quietly asked.

“What is it, Professor?”

They gazed up at him again, “Why are you carrying me?”

He scoffed, “Because you were carelessly sleeping outside the Cathedral in this cold weather…  _ without a blanket  _ I might add. I am simply taking you to your bed, where you can sleep properly, without worrying about me.”

“But…” their sad whisper caught him off guard, “I’m always going to worry about you. You are…” they trailed off, pulling his cloak tighter around their body.

“What?” He questioned Byleth, slowing his steps.

“It’s nothing.” 

“Byleth…” he murmured, “how long have you been doing that? Sleeping outside the Cathedral?”

Byleth turned their head away from him, “Ever since I came back.”

He stopped in his tracks, astounded, “You… but why?”

Byleth took in a deep breath, shaking as they let it out, “You mean a lot to me Dimitri. I just… wanted to make sure you were safe, make sure that you knew that I was there for you.”

Dimitri’s eye watered, stinging as those foreign feelings crashed over him like waves all over again. They had always looked after him, but to think that they had been sleeping there every night for  _ months _ not only had overwhelming guilt festering in his heart, but a deep sense of gratitude as well. He continued to walk, subconsciously pulling them closer to him, and smiled.

“Professor?”

“Hmm?” Byleth’s voice sounded tired, wary.

“Thank you.” He whispered, smiling at the very noticeable blush that crossed their cheeks.

A simple nod was all he received in response, and he was more than content with that. The silence was welcomed for the rest of the walk to Byleth’s quarters and he was lucky that a guard was standing nearby to open the door for him. 

Having navigated the room previously in his Academy days, he was comfortable traversing it in the dark, and carried them towards the bed. As he looked down at Byleth, he noticed that they had fallen back to sleep in his arms. Carefully, he laid them down, thoughts trailing to the warmth that seemed to be flooding his chest.

And then he realized. This wasn’t just affection he was feeling for Byleth. It was  _ love _ . 

Dimitri thanked the Goddess that they were asleep as he reached out a hand to run it through the soft, minty locks of hair. Hesitantly leaning down, he placed the softest of kisses on their forehead, lingering as if to make sure that this wasn’t a dream, another midnight hallucination of his.

“It all makes sense now.” Dimitri whispered calmly, and left Byleth in their quarters, his cloak still warmly wrapped around them, so that they could keep him there throughout the night.

* * *

And then, the day finally came. 

It was a day that Dimitri, the young King of Faerghus, never dreamed he would  _ live  _ to see. It was never something he thought about. The idea of getting married was as foreign to him as true happiness. Though, if he had to describe what that felt like… it would be this moment. 

There was something so strange about standing at the altar in the church, eagerly awaiting his soon-to-be spouse to enter. He had always grown up with the notion that this was a holy, sacred ground, but for the first time in his life, he actually felt as though the goddess was near. 

When the doors creaked open and the sunlight poured in, revealing a figure draped in radiant white from head to toe, Dimitri truly felt blessed.

As soon as Byleth and Alois had become visible, the Fhirdiad Royal Orchestra began their triumphant introductory music. The familiar wedding tune echoed throughout the chapel, but to Dimitri, it faded into the background along with all of the  _ “ooh”s _ and  _ “ahh”s  _ of the crowd admiring his partner.  _ His  _ betrothed.  _ His  _ beloved.

Alois took the lead, and then Byleth, clinging onto his arm, followed cautiously but confidently. Their steps were calculated—probably to avoid falling over in those ghastly tall shoes—but poised. With every step, a new emotion rushed through Dimitri and sent a chill through him from head to toe, like a winter Faerghus gale.

A rush of adrenaline. The same sensation he experienced when he first raced his horse through the royal gardens.

A prickling of pride. It puffed up his chest from within, much like the time when he first destroyed a training dummy.

A hint of embarrassment. The feeling that immediately followed his triumph over the training dummy, when in his excitement he accidentally clenched down so hard on his wooden lance that he snapped it in half.

A flicker of fear. It was reminiscent of the uncertainty he had felt right before his coronation. Could he handle the responsibilities that he was preparing to undertake? Could his shoulders bear the weight?

A sliver of shame. Did he deserve such happiness, when so many others could never experience joy again in their lives? How many had sacrificed themselves for his sake? How many had become victims to his rampage?

Above all, however, as Byleth finally walked up the steps immediately before the altar, was the warm emotion of love. Love coursed through his heart, mind, body, and soul as they rose to meet him. A love that could conquer all and carve its own path into the future.

Alois slowly slid his arm out from where it was linked with Byleth’s, and then he turned to face Dimitri. He bowed slightly in deference to the king, but he also winked and then gave Dimitri a firm pat on the arm.  _ Jeralt entrusted his kid to me _ , he seemed to say.  _ Now I’m entrusting Byleth to you. _

Hope and despair. Victory and defeat. Love and loss. The aches and pains of the war still lingered, still had their grip on Dimitri’s body and psyche. The ghosts that had swarmed around him for years were closing in tighter and tighter on what should have been the most blissful day of his life. They were watching him, waiting for him to make a mistake. Had he not already exacted his revenge? Had he not put their voices to rest?

Then he focused on Byleth’s soft, slight, sweet smile reserved just for his gaze, and everything else seemed to melt away. That heavenly smile could dispel any demons.

It had saved him before, and it would save him again.

Those hands, as warm as ever, held his so gently, so perfectly, as Alois had them recite their vows to each other. Dimitri was not at all surprised when he felt hot tears trailing down his cheeks. Byleth just looked so positively radiant, and he had never felt luckier to be alive. 

As warm hands cradled his face, the cold of their new ring brushing the ridge of his jawline, he kissed Byleth with every single ounce of passion he could muster. The cheers of his close friends and family were drowned out by the sound of his heart beating in his ears. Their tears were mingling together as they cried. For all the people that were lost that couldn’t be there to see this day, for the love that they shared with each other, and for the years that they would spend together, side by side.

As Dimitri turned to look at his friends, he couldn’t help but laugh. Even the majority of them were sharing in the happy tears of the newlywed spouses. He couldn’t rightfully say he had  _ ever  _ seen Sylvain cry, so he was going to commit that to memory. Felix had a look of pride on his face, and that was enough to send Dimitri into a new fit of crying. What did he do to deserve all of these wonderful people in his life?

After the reception and the many dances and drinks with their friends, Dimitri could tell how tired his beloved was getting. Rightfully so, with all the work and planning the two of them had done in the weeks before their wedding. Endless nights had been spent getting everything  _ just right _ . After all, Byleth had always been very picky about how to throw parties. It was just one of many things that Dimitri loved about them.

When the festivities had finally calmed down, Dimitri moved to kneel beside his beloved and extended his hand, “May I take you away from here?”

Smiling brightly, Byleth nodded, “Please do. I don’t think I, or our dear Felix, can handle another of Sylvain’s stories of his  _ escapades _ . That poor boy puts up with too much from him.”

Dimitri chuckled, “Well, we can certainly discuss those two another time. For now, with your permission, I’m going to carry you up to  _ our  _ room.”

Byleth nodded, the exhaustion clear on their face, “That sounds heavenly.”

Dimitri lifted them seamlessly, but gently from their seat, sighing in content as they cuddled into his chest. Everyone who passed by them said their congratulations and left the couple to their devices. Byleth giggled as Dimitri began to climb the stairs, and he glanced down to smile at them.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s just… why do I feel like we’re always carrying each other places?” Byleth laughed, idly tracing the leather armor he was wearing with their fingers.

Dimitri smiled and leaned down to kiss their forehead lightly, lips lingering, “You’ve carried me in many ways. Not just that time you took me to the infirmary or the time you carried me to my room at the academy. You are… so much more to me.”

Byleth remained quiet as Dimitri seemed to be in deep thought. The guards outside their room opened the doors for them and the King cautiously laid his spouse down on their bed, nerves eating at him. This would be the first night that they got to sleep in the same room together. It was both daunting and exciting at the same time.

He took his time removing his armor, so that he was just wearing a simple button up shirt and some slacks, then joined them in their bed. Byleth didn’t hesitate to curl into his arms, draping a small arm over his chest. They traced the buttons on his shirt, waiting for him to begin speaking again.

“Sorry…” He murmured, “I needed to think of what else I wanted to say to describe just how much you mean to me.”

“Don’t be, love. You don’t need to shower me with endless praises either.”

“I do though. If not for you, I wouldn’t be here right now and it’s because of all of the things you have carried me through. So if there’s one thing I want to do tonight, it’s to thank you for everything you’ve done for me.” He whispered.

“Dimitri,” Byleth turned in his arms to face him, “can we both agree that we needed each other? You’ve done so much for me as well.”

“Do you really feel that way?”

“Of course I do! Just trust me, alright?”

Dimitri sighed and placed his forehead against theirs, “I do trust you, my love. More than anyone.”

“Then let’s forget about the past, at least this once. Let’s just spend the rest of the night enjoying our time together. Let’s,” Byleth paused, deep in thought, “spend the rest of our lives looking forward, not back.”

Supporting each other into the future. Carrying each other into tomorrow. That was how their relationship had always been, had it not? The past had shaped them, but it did not need to control them.

"No matter what awaits us, I will be there for you," Dimitri swore.

Side by side, the rulers of Fòdlan could carry any weight the world threw at them.


End file.
